The Soldiers of Grievance
by E.J.C.Graves
Summary: Story of a group of soldiers who try to rescue their squadmates and avert a third world war.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**Year 2024**

**Thursday **

**March 24**

**15:00 hrs.**

**Baghdad, Iraq**

**Alpha/Zulu team**

**Air Force Special Forces**

**Dragon Skin Attack Group**

"Hey Sarge, you see anything?" Sergeant Jack Cortez heard over his neural implant's bone conduction transponder. He could hear the voice, yet feel it. It was like a third conscience. The first conscience was his natural one; the second was his tactical commander.

"Sarge, are you there?"

"Yeah I'm here, Benny, what do you want?"

"I was wondering if you saw anything," Said Corporal Benny Hayes, Sergeant Cortez's third in command, "And I was wondering when we will get some explosive ordinance."

Another voice came over Cortez's neural implant, "Shut up you friggin' pyro." This voice had a dry Irish accent, it was the voice of Corporal Shawn O'Reilly, the "Leprechaun" of the team and Cortez's second in command.

"Corporal Hayes, you will get your explosives when we rendezvous with the boys from the First Infantry Division. Then we will−"

"Whoo-hoo! The famous Big Red One!" said Private Travis, or Tex as he normally was called. Tex was obviously from Texas and was a true Texan to the heart. He was the heart and soul of the entire unit."

"Okay boys, get up on your feet, check your ammo and supplies and saddle up. Let's move out!"

**

The two squads got up from leaning against the stone parapet and walked over to their armored tactical troop transport, or more commonly called the A-Triple-T. They entered the special made transports that had been designed to fit the Dragon Skin armor that the attack group wore. Dragon Skin was a new type of body armor that could withstand almost any type of ammunition and did not hinder any type of body movement, whatsoever. In fact it was so strong that they took it from its original design, which was just a bullet proof vest, to a full coverage protective suit. The suit could even take a .50 caliber sniper round to the chest and remain almost unscratched. The Dragon Skin's only weakness was that it could be blown apart by multiple anti-tank weapons or hundreds of high caliber rounds, other than that, it was nearly indestructible.

**

The war in Iraq had been going on since Cortez was a young child. Since the war began it had steadily gotten worse, until the U.S. government had decided a few years back to give their soldiers all they needed and more, at the expense of the taxpayers of course. Exactly five years ago the Dragon Skin test project began and Cortez was the first man to be picked for the program. At the time he had been only a private, but had quickly advanced to the rank of sergeant.

"So, Sarge what are our new orders?" a woman's voice said through the neural implant. The woman's voice belonged to Corporal Brandy Halverson, the only woman in the squad of eight. Though she was the only female, she wasn't a liability; she was the team's sniper and anti-tank specialist. When she was relaxed her voice was calm and quiet, but when she was in "sniper mode" her voice became icy and disembodied, and that signaled that she was ready to kill.

"Our job," Cortez explained, "is to clean out some crappy mosque on the outskirts of town; we're supposed to encounter minimal resistance, according to the Commander."

"Oh, sure this mission will go like the Commander said," replied the newest addition to the group, Private Rivera, "as if any other mission has gone with 'minimal' resistance."

Cortez ignored the comment and didn't reprimand him, but something didn't feel right.

"Hey, I'm sure this will be an easy detail for a change;" said Corporal Halverson, "lighten up Rivera."

"I was just sayin' what was on my mind,that was all." was the private's only response.

Both squads got into their transports and started of towards their destination.

**

Hussein Balleesh had just finished setting up the last 50 caliber turret and loading it with two hundred carbonized-steel-core rounds, when he heard his radio at his side go off: "Hussein I just saw the armored Americans enter their transport and head towards you."

As soon as he had heard this Hussein yelled to all of his fellow freedom-fighters, "Hurry up all of you, the Americans will be here soon! Get those cannons set up now! We need those sand bags constructed so they take the Americans' shots. We will win this battle, my brothers!" Quietly he said to himself," I will not lose this war, or Allah help me. I will not lose."

All the other insurgents in the mosque's courtyard yelled at the top of their voices in approval.

**

Both squads were dropped off about 2 minutes from their destination, because the transports were needed elsewhere. Sergeant Cortez was standing on the side walk going over the plan with both. "Now one more time, team alpha will go into the mosque's courtyard and clear all resistance; zulu team will go onto the neighboring rooftops and give us cover from above. Lieutenant Segraves, if things get too hairy down here, you and your wingmate have full permission to blow the mosque to pieces, do you copy?"

A crisp clear voice came over the line,"Ok sir TX-89 Reapers are in the sky and ready to fight." The voice belonged to 2nd Lieutenant Eric Segraves, a pilot who had just been sent over to Iraq about seven months ago and was still on his first tour of duty as being teams alpha and zulu's "aerial assistant". He had been valedictorian of his class; but none of that mattered anymore, being smartest in your class gave you bragging rights but it won't help you dodge an incoming surface-to-air missile that will blow you out of the sky without hesitation. With all that in mind he finished his statement, "We are loaded up and our weapons are hot. Call on us if you need us, as you probably will. Oh, and by the way, Corporal Halverson, how's it going down there." The Lieutenant fancied the pretty, brunette woman.

Hearing this Benny jokingly said, "Now why would you say that?" While he said this he was in the process of releasing the slide of his M-8 assault rifle. Seeing this Cortez realized that he hadn't loaded his own weapon. He also noticed that Corporal O'Reilly was twirling his side arm like he was some sort of Irish cowboy. "O'Reilly, stop doing that with your pistol, someone will accidentally get shot" reprimanded Cortez. He knew that by doing this O'Reilly would shoot at his best. He also knew that O'Reilly could shoot a man in the head with a 9mm. handgun from seventy-five yards away, so he had no doubt in his capabilities.

"Ok boys, what's taking so long," said Brandy, "I'd love too have a pleasant chat, especially with you, Lieutenant, but we have a job to do." After she said that, they all knew that she meant business by the tone in her voice: she was in "sniper mode". In reaction to this everyone got back to their feet and headed out.

**

Corporal Nicholas James was in a building across from the mosque that they had to raid with his .50 caliber sniper rifle. He had been studying it from afar, and had seen minimal activity from the time he had been there, which had been about ten minutes. All he had seen was a couple men with AK47's, M-16's, and M-4's there were 2 sandbag barriers, nothing that they couldn't over come. He reported to Sergeant Cortez, "Sir, this is Corporal James, I have 5 men standing in the courtyard with AK's and M-16's do I have permission to take them out?"

"No, permission denied Corporal, hold your fire," was his only reply from his commanding officer. After he heard this James swore under his breath, he really wanted to get some of the action, instead of sitting in a building and watching in case they needed help. In fact if they needed help they would probably pick that stupid fighter pilot to assist them. It sucked to be a sniper.

**

"Come on Sarge, you and I both know that James can't shoot for his life!" complained Corporal Halverson. "I'm the best shot of both teams, not James! Why do I have to stay behind with you guys?"

"Once again, no." said Cortez, "we need you with us on the ground so you can take out any enemies that are hidden behind barriers. Plus I know that you are a better shot than James; that's why I chose you to stay on the ground with us. By the way, load your weapon, you're gonna need it."

"Whatever, Sarge, you know that you're hindering my abilities." was the corporal's only response. After she said that she immediately loaded her own .50 caliber sniper rifle with armor piercing rounds and headed off with her team towards the mosque.

Once they were a block away from the mosque, both teams came to a stop at a street corner and waited for Corporal James meet up with them. When he did he reported that there was no activity at the site. For the third time, Cortez went over the plan for the last time and Zulu team headed off to be stationed in the vacant buildings beside the mosque's courtyard. Alpha team waited for their cue to attack once Zulu was situated.

About three minutes later Zulu reported that they were in position and that Alpha could attack. Alpha team moved to the wall in front of the courtyard, when Corporal James called in with a voice of pure terror, "Sarge, they have heavy weapons at the site; they know that we are here! We gotta get out of here! We gotta—"

A huge explosion shook the very ground Alpha team was standing on, and the building that Zulu team was in exploded and collapsed. "Corporal-- Zulu team report! James!" Cortez shouted into his microphone. "Alpha team, move in now!"

**

Hussein Balleesh had known that the Americans were in that building since they entered it. He had been waiting for the precise moment to strike with the artillery cannon they had hidden inside the mosque, but he hadn't expected it to blow the entire building up. It really showed how effective American technology could be. While he was considering this, gunfire erupted in the courtyard, so he ran out to fight the infidels who were going to defile this holy place.

**

Cortez ran into the courtyard, like a bat out of hell, firing his rifle at any attackers he could see. He wanted to kill them, all of them. They had killed his men and they would die for that. Any man in his path was cut down by his gunfire, until he had to reload his weapon. At the very moment he had to reload, an attacker popped up out of cover and started to run at Cortez, until he suddenly stopped and fell to the ground, missing part of his head. Cortez looked over his shoulder and saw Corporal Halverson's rifle barrel smoking. "Thanks." he said. She nodded in approval and ran off to kill some more enemies. Cortez looked around at his team and saw complete chaos. He watched Private Travis run past him and saw the armor on his shin explode in a shower of blood and bits of bone; he heard him scream in pain, as he shot back at his attacker and put twelve bullets in his attacker's chest. It was then that he realized that all of the weapons that the insurgents had was not here by chance, it was here for only one purpose: to completely annihilate his team. His team didn't stand a chance.

**

_The Americans didn't stand a chance_ was all that Hussein was thinking. They were disorganized and would fail. He started yelling orders at his men, "Uncover the rockets! We will win my brothers! Today we will be in Paradise!" he hefted a rocket propelled grenade over his shoulder and fired a rocket at one of the Americans. He dropped the launcher and threw a hand grenade at the closest American and waited.

**

Corporal O'Reilly was just praying to God that he would get home to see his wife and children, when he heard a metallic _ping_ at his feet. He looked down and saw a hand grenade at his feet. "Holy sh—"

**

_BANG!! _Cortez looked in the direction of the sound, the direction of where Corporal O'Reilly should have been, but all he saw was a fine cloud of red mist and a blackened crater in the ground, surrounded by small pieces of flesh. "O'Reilly! Shawn!! Nooo!" This couldn't be happening, his team was dying, and it was all his fault. It was too late to retreat. "Lieutenant blow up the mosque, blow up the frickin' mosque." As soon as he said this he was hit by a bullet in the chest and the entire world turned a bit hazy and blurred. He saw Private Rivera be shot in arm and scream in pain, but suddenly the artillery cannon in the mosque fired in a deafening explosion, and he couldn't hear a thing. The entire world was silence and all he saw was bloodshed on both sides. He gathered up enough strength to call for reinforcements from HQ, but he knew it would be too late.

**

Lieutenant Segraves was observing the firefight from the cockpit of his TX-89 Reaper, when he received the orders to blow up the mosque. "What in the world is going on down there?" asked his wingman.

"I don't know, but we just received new orders: take out the mosque. Hit it with all our air-to-ground missiles." was the lieutenant's reply.

The two jets flew side by side and approached the mosque at one quarter speed. Right before they got to the safe distance to release the missiles, the insurgents in the mosque opened fire at the jets with shoulder-fired surface-to-air missiles. Before the jets could release their payload, they had to execute evasive actions to keep themselves from being blown up.

Lieutenant Segraves was frantically using all the evasive tricks he could dig up from his training at the Air Force Academy to keep himself from becoming a fireball. He flipped, rolled banked left and right, he could not shake the incoming missile. It was like the missile knew what he was going to do, this was no ordinary rocket. He heard over the radio, "Hey Eric, I'm gonna try something to shake this thing off my tail. Hopefully this will work. Cross your fingers, man" said the lieutenant's wingmate. Lieutenant Segraves watched in horror as he saw his wingmate bank very sharply to the right as the incoming missiles got closer. He watched until the stress was so great on his wingman's ship that his engine stalled and the missiles collided into his wingman and explode into a ball of flame. While he was watching, he didn't notice that the missiles on his tail were getting closer. When he did notice this the attacking projectiles were almost in contact with his fighter. He dug into the deepest parts of his memory to think of a maneuver he could use in this case of life or death. He finally thought of one, it was probably the dumbest idea ever but it should work, it had to work. If it didn't work he would die.

**

Hussein was alive with energy and victory he and his men had just about won this tiny battle; shot down one, soon to be two jets; and were going to take several of the Americans captive, if the men let them survive. This was a glorious victory. Allah would smile upon him and his tactical genius.

**

Corporal Halverson was in the midst of the hellish firefight. She was like a killing machine, all that was seen was a target and was promptly shot and killed. She wasn't thinking, she was just killing; she killed for revenge, for justice, and for the sport of it. Even though she was killing nonstop she still saw her team being cut down by a hailstorm of bullets, grenades, rockets, and God knew what else. She saw Corporal O'Reilly get blown up, she saw Private Sanchez get hit in the face with a rocket, she saw Private Rivera get shot in the gut, she also saw her own Sergeant get shot four times in the chest and keep on moving. She saw everything but the rock that was flying toward the back of her head. She was in the middle of shooting a man in the right eye, when all she saw went black and she heard nothing.

**

_It was amazing how much throwing a five-pound rock at the back of a person's head could help in a situation like this, _thought Hussein. Just in doing that simple action he had saved the lives of many of his men that were still alive. Now he only had to deal with the one commanding the American, the one who was shot in the chest many times; the young one whose ankle had been raked with multiple bullet and the other wounded Americans who were on the ground. This was too easy, but he wondered what had happened to the last American pilot. No matter, he was probably dead by now.

**

Lieutenant Segraves was just about to do the stupidest act of desperation ever. The move was from a movie he had seen when he was about four or five years old, the movie was about a group of fighter pilots who had to shoot down their traitorous wingman. The move was to let the enemy ( in this case a missile ) get close and cut the engines and pull the stick sharply towards your own body and the plane will do basically a backflip. When the move is executed, the attacker will overshoot and then the pilot will be behind the enemy, and can shoot it down.

He decided to do the move, which he nicknamed the "cut-throat". He waited until he was heading toward the mosque at a high rate of speed, let the missile approach until it was about ten yards from the back of his fighter jet and he did it. He cut his engines to five percent and pulled back on the yoke as hard as he could, he watched as the missile passed a foot away from the cockpit canopy. He had did it, he was successfully behind the missile, and shot it down with his jet's cannons. He then double-backed, targeted the mosque and fired. _That was for you, Simmons _was the Lieutenants only thought. He would miss his only friend that he knew over in Iraq dearly, but there was work to be done. "Sergeant, mosque has been neutralized."

**

Hussein's last notion of victory was destroyed when the mosque he was standing in front of imploded in a massive explosion. All he had now was a lot of wounded soldiers and a few fighting enemies. Now he didn't have even a mosque to protect. He was going to get revenge for them demolishing his holy place. They all would die, in due time.

**

Sergeant Cortez was the only soldier left fighting. All his teammates were either dead or passed out because of blood loss. He was also about to pass out he fell to his knees and fell onto his back, coughing up small amounts of blood. He saw the insurgents who were defending the now demolished mosque raised their guns and cheer in unison. He saw one of them approach him and speak to him in Arabic, the man said, "You fight like many men, you are a good opponent, that is why I will leave you die, I enjoyed fighting you." He saw other men drag away some of his wounded men and Corporal Halverson. He stared back at the man leaning over him and said, "Burn in hell." After that he passed out.

18


	2. Chapter 1 Awakening

**Chapter 1**

**The Awakening**

**Year 2024**

**Wednesday**

**March 30**

**12:00 hours**

**Freedom Military base hospital**

**Baghdad, Iraq**

**Alpha Team Remnants**

**Air Force Special Forces**

**Dragon Skin Attack Group**

"Is he alive?"

"I don't know."

"If he is we have to get him awake now."

"If we wake him up now there could be permanent damage to his body."

"I don't care how screwed up he will wind up, I am going to wake him up now."

Cortez was woken up very suddenly by a sharp shaking to his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked around and noticed that he was in a hospital room. He also noticed that his commander was in the room with a very concerned looking doctor. "Where am I, I mean, which country am I in?" Cortez asked.

His commander replied, "You are at your home base, Freedom Base, in the hospital."

"Where is my team?" Cortez inquired. He tried to sit up but as he did he felt searing pain in his chest, but sat up anyways. "Why does my chest hurt so much?" asked Cortez.

"Sergeant I am sorry to say that most of your team is missing; some of them are dead; and you, Private Benny Hayes, and the pilot are the only people who we are sure are alive from the attack on the mosque. That's why I had to wake you up. In the battle you were shot in the chest by a high caliber round that penetrated your armor." reported his commander.

"So what happened to my team?" asked Cortez, exasperatedly.

"We believe that they were taken captive by the terrorists you fought against. The rest of your men are dead." was the commander's grim answer.

"How could this happen, I thought they didn't know we were coming. My team was killed because they knew we were there! They were tipped off! How could this happen?" Cortez yelled.

"Sergeant Cortez stop screaming. This wasn't the only reason that I woke you up. I was sent here to tell you that you have been put on Honorable Discharge."

"What!" said Cortez, "Why? What have I done?"

"You directly endangered your team, which resulted in four of your team members dying and three of them being captured. The Honorable Discharge takes effect in four days. Until then I hope you have a good day Sergeant." was the commander's last say in the matter.

After that the officer walked out of the room and left Cortez sitting up in the bed. The doctor came into the room and told Cortez that he had visitors. The sergeant was surprised about this. He sat watching the door and into the room walked Benny Hayes and Lieutenant Segraves.

Benny walked in with an unusual swagger. As he walked in, Cortez noticed that when he turned around to shut the door, that he winced in pain. "So, what happened to you, soldier. asked Benny's sergeant.

"Sarge, I took several fifties to the side, but the armor withstood it. Even though they didn't go into me, the rounds still broke several ribs." Benny replied.

Cortez looked around the room once more, and noticed that the pilot had a huge gash on his arm. He nodded at the lieutenant's arm, "So…?" he inquired.

Lieutenant Segraves saw what the soldier was talking about, and replied, "Bad landing."

"Ahh." was Cortez's last word on the matter. "Did you guys get fired?" he asked the two. Both the men nodded. "What did they get you guys for?" he asked.

Benny was the first one to speak, "Well, Sarge, I really don't know what they discharged me for. You know me I really don't do well with the legal crap. All I care about is gunfire, computer hacking, explosions, and more explosions."

It was then that the pilot answered the question, "Somehow they pinned my wingmate being shot down on me. It's not my fault that Lieutenant Simmons tried to pull off some stupid trick and got shot down in the process. Anyways, they still blamed me for endangering my squadron-mate, so command discharged me," Segraves said.

"That is the stupidest reason to release someone from service," the sergeant commented.

"Hey, Cortez, I looked all over the hospital at the base and I couldn't find Corporal Haverson," the pilot said, "do you know where she is?"

"Yeah, what happened to her, Sarge?" Benny asked. "I passed out before I could see what went down," he said.

Cortez was silent for a moment. "They, er, They captured her."

"Well, where did they take her?" Segraves asked.

"I really don't have the faintest Idea of where they would take a prisoner like her. I am just surprised that they didn't kill her on the spot. Besides, they also took Rivera and the others too." thought Cortez aloud.

"Hey, guys, I really can't answer why they took them, but I can propably tell you where they went." Benny said, "you know I can hack into any –and I mean any- computer or mainframe. So I think that tapping into the satellite video feed for the last seven days to see where they went would be a cakewalk.

Both of the men opposite of him just stared at him. They both knew that the kid was a genius, but they hadn't expected that idea. It was brilliant.

"Now, I know that you are in awe of me, but there is one little problem with me doing this: getting to a computer that can hack into the database. The computer that has this information is in Washington, D.C., and there is no computer here that can hack into that system."

"Hey, geek boy, how does a flight to Egypt sound to you?" asked Lieutenant Segraves.

"Well, it sounds awesome, but does that have to do with this situation?"

I have a friend in Egypt who has the technology to do that and more, and he has a stockpile of explosive, to sweeten the deal."

"Oh, so how do we get there?"

"Have you both been trained to fly a jet before?"

"Yeah, we have but what does that- Oh, I see; I like where this is going!"

"So Sergeant, are you up for this?" asked the pilot, "can you even walk?"

"Hell yeah, Count me in!

Cortez sat up, ripped off his IVs, pulled on some pants and a t-shirt, and the three ran out of the room.

Corporal Brandy Halverson awoke with the worst headache of her life. It was even worse than the hangover after first time she had raided her father's liquor cabinet. She reached her hand back to the posterior of her head and felt a sharp stinging sensation and pulled her hand back quickly. She looked down at her hand and saw what appeared to be dried blood. Then it struck her: where was her helmet? She looked down at herself, and noticed her armor was gone, she was wearing the clothes she had had on under her armor, but there was no armor to be seen.

She stood up, checked out her surroundings and saw that she was in a small room with a barred door, barred window, a simple mattress with a sheet, and a separate room with a hole in the ground. Then it all came back to her, the firefight, her friends being shot, her about to kill one more person, then blackness.

All of a sudden, there was a commotion in a nearby room, and men, assault rifles in hand, walked in carrying Private Rivera. They threw him roughly to the ground of the cell that Halverson was in. The armed men left the room and walked away.

The young private attempted to get up, but fell to the ground. Brandy rushed over to him, turned him over and noticed the bruises and burns all over his body. Underneath his shirt, Rivera's gut was crudely bandaged with what looked like linen tied around his body, and he had his arm taped up with surgical tape.

"My God, what have they done to you?" she said as she looked down at the young man's body. She ripped open the front of his shirt and found only more wounds. She lightly touched his skin, and the boy writhed and groaned in pain.

Halverson stood up, at the sound of screaming nearby. She recognized the voice of the one in pain; the voice belonged to Travis. She wondered what they were doing to him.

The yells and screams continued for, by her estimate, about ten minutes. A short while after they stopped, the armed men again came up to the cell. This time in their arms was a wounded Private Joseph Travis. They dropped him into the cell and walked off, after closing and locking the door behind them.

Travis got up off of the floor, looked at Rivera, then at Brandy, and said, "Christ, they got you too." Solemnly she nodded her head. "You do know what's going to happen to you next?" Travis asked her. Once again she nodded her head. She knew what he meant: that she was next.

The two soldiers appeared at the cell gate seconds later, grabbed her, and started to lead her down the hallway. _No matter what they do to me, I can endure it, I will survive,_ she thought as she was brought into a room just down the hallway. _I will survive._

_It's one thing to sneak off base and get drunk and not get caught, but it's a completely different thing to try to sneak off base in the Air Force's fastest, newest, and expensive fighter and not be seen, or heard. _Cortez thought as they ran down the corridors that led to the hangar that held the TX-89 Reapers. If they could even get into the hangar, it would be a great achievement; if they got off the ground, past the air patrols, out of surface-to-air missile range, it would be a miracle from God.

When the three men would get near a guard, they would slow down, walk past him, sometimes say _hi_, and when they got past his eyesight, they ran. They walked by one guard, turned the corner, and Segraves stopped the other two. He stopped by a door, took out a key, put into the lock, turned it, and opened the door. The three walked inside the doorway. "What is this place?" asked Benny, clutching his side.

"This is the pilot locker room," Segraves responded, "this is where we will get us some pilot jumpsuits. You guys don't have any paper clips or bobby pins on you?" Cortez shook his head, but Benny started digging through his pant's pockets, and came up with both a bobby pin and a paper clip. He handed them over to the pilot.

"Where did you get a bobby pin from?" asked Cortez.

"Well you know me, I'm a lady's man; what can I say." Benny responded.

Segraves took the two metal pieces and bent them so that they were straight. "Watch this, a little trick I picked up at the Academy, when my frat boy of a roommate locked me out of my dorm." He took the two wires, stuck them into a lock on a locker, pushed one to the side, and started to wiggle the paper clip around until the pins in the lock started to click. Finally, the bolt on the lock twisted, and the locker door swung open. Conveniently inside were three pilot jumpsuits. Everybody grabbed one, put it on; or tried to put it on, in Cortez's case. Eventually they were in the proper attire to steal multimillion dollar flying machines and escape to Africa.

The three poked their heads out of the entrance to the locker room, checked for anyone, and started to run down the hallway again. After a couple of minutes of more running, they reached the exit nearest the hangar. Once they were outside, the pilot pointed out their destination, a hangar, about eight hundred feet from the building. They started to sprint to the front of the hangar, until they saw two armed guards walk out of the hangar door. They slowed down their approach to a stealthy, crouching walk. One of the guards walked inside. The lone sentry stood outside, lit a cigarette, and started to walk toward the three. The men dispersed themselves, and walked into the shadow of the hangar, so that they would not be seen. Cortez took the shoelace out of his shoe, stretched it between his hands, and silently walked behind the lone man smoking. He quickly wrapped the cord around his neck, put his hand over the man's mouth, and dragged him into the shadows. He slowly put the man down and checked his pulse to make sure he wasn't dead. He felt it twitter lightly against his fingers. _Good, he's out._ The took the guard's pistol, rifle, and tazer.

A few minutes later, the other guard came out, and looked for his buddy. This time Benny walked behind the man and quickly hit the man in the back of the neck, knocking him out instantly. The three men walked into the hangar, unharmed, got in the planes, and took off.

Brandy was pushed into a chair and strapped into it. A man walked in front of her, and introduced himself as Hussein Balleesh. He started to ask prying question; none of which she answered. Seeing that she did not respond, he ordered a big Middle-eastern man in Arabic to do something. The man unstrapped her, grabbed her by the hair, and forced her face into a tank of freezing cold water, almost until she was out of air. He pulled her up by the hair, and thrust her back into the chair. Gasping for air, Corporal Halverson looked up at her interrogator. The man grinned, asked more question, and got the same result. Once again, he ordered the same burly guy to take her and dunk her in the water. This continued several more times. Until Hussein walked up to her and said, "You are a tough one, like the rest of your team, but all it takes is time, eventually you will talk. One way or another, you will talk."

He ordered the two armed men to drag her out and put her in the cell. She was thrown in the cell next to Rivera, who was starting to be able to get up now. She could not sleep that night, she kept on thinking, _I will survive, I will make it._


	3. Chapter 2 New Friends

**Chapter 2**

**New Friends**

**Year 2024**

**Thursday**

**March 30**

**23:47 hours**

**North of Cairo, Egypt**

**Cairo, Egypt**

**Alpha Team Remnants**

**Air Force Special Forces**

**Dragon Skin attack Group**

Sergeant Jack Cortez looked back on the events that had passed in the last twelve hours. He had been kicked out of the military, he had broken out of a military hospital, assaulted two soldiers, hijacked three of the Air Force's most advanced fighters, and had nearly got shot down; all because of an explosive crazed hacker, and a pilot who had a friend in Egypt.

So there he was, strapped into the cockpit of a TX-89 Reaper fighter aircraft, looking down at the night life of Cairo in the distance. He looked to the left and to the right, checking to see if Segraves and Benny were still with him. He sighed, thinking of what hell was waiting for him when he got back to the US.

"You still with us Cortez?" asked Lieutenant Segraves. He tapped the left temple of his helmet and his HUD popped up in the visor of his helmet. He tapped it again, and his Helmet Mounted Display (HMD) changed and showed a map. "Hey, guys, we're almost there. I'm going to set a navigation point on your HMD's." He pushed a few buttons on the dashboard of his cockpit and heard a soft beep. He changed the channel on his radio, and said, "Knock, knock Brandon; can we land?"

He heard some rustling on the other end of his channel. "Who is this, and why the hell have you woke me up?" Segraves hesitated for a second, dredging up old memories from highschool, and finally replied, "It's the Eric. You remember, the guy who was dating with your girlfriend in highschool."

"Hey man, didn't recognize your voice for a second." Yep, he remembered, "Remind me to beat your face in, when you land." And the channel went dead for a bit.

"Well, he's in high spirits." Segraves thought to aloud. He could sense that the men in the planes next to him were staring at him. He looked over at Cortez, and said, "Remember guys, when we get on the ground, don't make the guy mad."

"Why?" asked Benny.

"Because the last person to piss him off was a Marine colonel, who wound up with a broken nose, a shattered jaw, a broken cheek bone, and a few missing teeth.

"Oooh, on that note I will make a point to not make him mad." Benny laughed nervously.

The static on the radio ceased, and the voice was back, "Ok, Eric, you guys can land."

All three jets slowed down, lowered their landing gear, and looked toward the ground as a two parallel lines of light lit up on the ground in front of them. They descended toward the cement runway ahead of them. Their tires screeched as they hit the runway. The jets taxied to the hangar doors that were being opened by a man.

As soon as his jet stopped, Cortez hopped out of the cockpit, and stood up, being glad to be on the ground again. He watched as Segraves jumped down from the seat of his jet. He walked up to the man who had opened up the hangar doors. As soon as he was in arm reach, the man brought his closed fist back and sent it flying into the pilot's cheek. Segraves got up, spat out some blood and shrugged off the hit, saying, "I deserved that." He walked up to the man again and shook his hand. He pointed to Cortez and Benny. He led the stranger to them, and introduced him to them, "Guys, meet my good friend Brandon Jenkins.

CIA operative Brandon Ball and his team of two others were about to raid a known terrorist cell's warehouse in western Iran. His fellow operative Jacob Lee had just picked the lock keeping them out of the building. The three agents pulled down their nightvision goggles and silently treaded inside. He tapped his second operative, a blonde named Sara DeMott, on the shoulder. She turned around. He pointed to the nearest corner of the dark warehouse, and drew his finger up the wall. She nodded and crept over to the corner, and expertly started to scale the wall. When she reached the top, she took out a harness, clipped herself to one end, and clipped the other end to a small beam on the roof. She gave her superior officer a thumbs-up. Brandon Ball nodded. He grabbed Jacob Lee's shoulder, got his attention and pointed ahead of them.

For Operative Lee, this was like any other assignment he had ever been given. They were supposed to silently get in, Sara was supposed to give Cover fire (if needed) from the upper corner of the warehouse, take the sleeping terrorists in the warehouse part of the building by surprise, and then proceed to raid the rear part of the building. So far, it had gone flawlessly: he had picked the lock on the front door (with ease), they had entered the warehouse, Sara was in position, and they were about to get the bad guys. Both him and Agent Ball were heading toward the sleeping guys; they just had to turn around this next shelf of AK-47 clips, and –_Crash!!_—he turned around to see a bunch of ammunition clips at the feet of an embarrassed CIA agent, who said, "I swear I didn't do it!" Just before the lights came one Jacob resorted to his days when he was a cat-burglar, and sprinted to the nearest wall, and climbed up it extremely fast.

Brandon Ball looked up to see all of the lights in the warehouse come alive, and see men with rifles running toward him. "Oh, crap!" he dropped his pistol on the ground. The men started to yell at him in Arabic. "Guys, I don't know what you are saying. Please don't shoot me." One of the men came up to him, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and started to scream questions at him in a language he didn't understand. Brandon said the only reply that came to mind, "No habla Inglés!"

Jacob was watching the mayhem from atop one of the humongous lights in the warehouse. He could feel the heat from the massive bulb wafting up to him. He looked up to the corner and saw that they hadn't found Agent DeMott. He signaled to her, but she only looked up at him and gave him the finger. He looked down and saw the men drag Agent Ball into the back of the warehouse. He stared at the back part of the building, until he got an idea. He keyed his headset and called Agent Demott to come over to his side of the warehouse. He watched her unclip herself from the harness, crawl hand-over-hand on the beams of the roof, and drop onto the platform that supported the light next to him. He showed her the entrance into the posterior of the structure. "That's our way in."

Brandy was looking transfixedly out the barred window of her cell, when she heard her cell door open. Everyone in the small room woke up and looked at the entrance of their prison. Several Arabs carried in a tall, well shaven, blonde man. The man was begging for mercy, and for them not to shoot him. She heard one of the men scream at him in Arabic to shut up. It would have been quite comical, if she wasn't also imprisoned.

Everyone could tell that the man was not from the military by the way he was begging for life. When he was thrown on the ground, he ran toward the gate, which the men had just closed, and started to shake it. Suddenly, realizing that people were staring at him, he turned around. All of the other inhabitants of the cell stared at him. He introduced himself as CIA Operative Brandon Ball. Private Rivera piped up and said disbelievingly, "So you're the guy they sent to rescue us? You've got to be kidding me!" Embarrased, the man sat down in the corner opposite of the others.

Cortez was walking around the "house" of ex-marine Brandon Jenkins. The place was like a small mansion on an air strip, except for the fact that there was a full size armory that contained just about every rifle, machinegun, pistol, rocket launcher, and explosive known to mankind. _This guy must be an arms dealer! _He walked past a shelf that had several Stinger SAM launchers, and a box labeled "C-6 Plastic High Explosive" _Yep, definitely an arms dealer. _

Lieutenant Segraves was just walking around the hangar with his old high school buddy Brandon Jenkins. His friend pointed out a brand new F-22 Raptor fighter jet. "This is my pride and joy. I have modified it a bit, I have removed all of the speed and maneuverability inhibitors, up to the point where the G forces will almost crush the human body. Oh, and I put the slick paint job on it also." Segraves looked at the plane and saw that it had, instead of the traditional gray camouflage, blood red camouflage and a maroon skull on the wings and the tail fins. "Nice!" he said.

Benny Hayes was just getting familiar with the roomful of terabyte processing servers. He had already found Jenkins' stockpile of energy drinks. _I'm gonna need these, a lot of these. _He was searching for the server in Washington, D.C that he wanted. It would take a while, but what are energy drinks for.

When Segraves and Jenkins had finally gotten inside of his house, they found Cortez staring in awe at an interesting rifle. The rifle had a bullpup design, (the magazine is behind the trigger) a 4X scope, infra-red targeting, laser designator, attachable grenade launcher, and a built in camera for shooting around corners. Jenkins walked up to him. Cortez said, "You have an MR-38! These aren't even in production! They're still experimental. How did you get this?"

Jenkins put his hand on Cortez's shoulder, and said, "Most employees will give away many company secrets and prototypes for several million dollars. That's the Black Market for you. I've got several more if you wanted to know." He started to leave the pilot and the soldier, when he turned around and said, "Hey guys, do you want to know where you're sleeping?" The two followed him out of the armory.


	4. Chapter 3 Futile Attempts

**Chapter 3**

**Futile Attempts**

**Year 2024**

**Friday**

**March 31**

**05:09 Hours**

**Southern Cairo**

**Cairo, Egypt**

**Alpha Team Remnants and CIA Operatives**

**Air Force Special Forces**

**Dragon Skin Attack Group**

Benny Hayes thought if he consumed one more energy drink, he might have a heart attack; going three days without any sleep, then attempting to wirelessly hack into military satellite records was a dumb choice. His hands were very tired from five hours of straight typing. _Never again am I going to try this. _

Brandon Jenkins woke with a start, instinctively he grabbed his combat knife that was under his pillow and threw it at the door. The twenty inch blade sunk deep into the thin wooden door. The door opened and a wide eyed Lieutenant stood at the door. Segraves looked at the knife sticking out the other side of the door and back at Jenkins. "Jesus Christ! I was just waking you up!"

"Sorry, man. I didn't mean to." Jenkins looked at his clock and noticed that it was early. "Why did you wake me up so early?"

"All your servers just crashed, and Benny is about to have a heart attack."

Jenkins jumped out of bed, and ran to the server room. He found Benny staring at a static covered screen shouting obsenities at the display.

Jenkins glanced at the screen, the servers, and Benny. He turned around to see Segraves walk out of the room. "Where are you going?" he asked.

The pilot turned glanced over his shoulder, and said (just barely audible over Benny's yelling), "I'm going to wake Cortez up." The man walked out of the room.

Cortez was not sleeping well. He was having dreams of his team, gutted, dead, and mutilated. He heard screaming.

He woke up. The screams continued then suddenly stopped. He brought his hand behind his ear and pressed down on the little metal piece just underneath his skin. In his left eye, a miniscule projector behind his eye shot up a small display in his vision. In this projection were all the heart rates of the soldiers once under his command. He went down the list. The projector, connected directly to the thinking part of his brain, heard him and brought up the information that he wanted. _Nicholas James, dead. All of Zulu Team, deceased. Shawn O'Reily, No heart monitor left. Benny Hayes, fast, but still in the norm. Brandy Halverson, rapid, strained heart rate. Wait! What was that?_ He mentally scrolled up the "page." _Brandy Halverson, rapid, strained heart rate. Antolin Rivera, just above normal. Tyler Travis, just above normal. They're Still Alive!_

Cortez leapt out of the bunk, quickly pulled on some pants, thrust open the door, knocking over Lieutenant Segraves. Cortez apologized and helped him up off the floor. "Eric, they're alive! They're still alive!"

Segraves stood still for a moment pondering the possibilities that this could be true. "Wait what?"

"The others, they are still alive." said Cortez. He started to run down the hall toward the server room. He figured if anyone would be there it would at least be Benny.

CIA Operatives Jacob Lee and Sara DeMott were hanging on the beam just outside the window where two men were smoking. The men had left the window wide open, as if no one could get through it. The two operatives silently swung themselves in and landed on the floor behind them, making no sound at all. The field operatives crept up on the two men. The ends of their cigarettes lit up the room like the dull coals of a bonfire. The men had no idea that smoking those cigarettes would be the last activity in their life.

Hands crept toward the men's heads like ghosts. The hands grasped the men's heads, and jerked sharply to the side with a "crunch" as the bones in their spine popped and snapped. Slowly the hands lowered the bodies to the floor and retreated. Both the operatives silently crept to the other side of the room, drew their silenced pistols and opened the door.

Hussein was watching the brunette woman be tortured. He believed that the background check that his men were performing had at least turned up with the name Brandy Halverson. He simply stared at the female having her face shoved in water almost to the point of drowning repeatedly, yet she still wouldn't talk. She was a beautiful woman, but she still was _American_, therefore she was vile in his sight. He waved a hand, and the man who was dunking her stopped. The American kneeled there, bound, wet in the harsh, fluorescent light. Hussein stood up, walked over to her, and crouched down until he was at eye level with her. "Where are your rescuers? Who is going to save you?" he asked her. No answer. "I wonder how long it is going to take to break you." He ran a finger slowly through her brown hair. She attempted to lash out at him, but the man restraining her pulled her by the shoulder to the floor, and brought a massive closed fist striking down on her face.

"What do you want?" she asked as she got back up. Her cheek was bleeding from the punishing blow that was dealt to her. He crouched down again and looked her in the eye and said, "I want the death of you and the rest of your kind."

When Cortez arrived at the server room, he didn't just find Benny, he found Brandon Jenkins at the Main server computer typing at lightning speed. He did not know what to make of it. Benny was facing away from the static-distorted screen cursing under his breath. The screen returned to its normal format after another minute or two of typing by Jenkins. Benny walked back over to the desk on which the computer rested, connected to the servers, and asked, "What went wrong." Jenkins looked over his shoulder at him and replied, "It looks like most of the information on server you want has been moved, or destroyed. I found a little bit of video on it, but nothing else."

"Pull it up," said Cortez, "come on, let's see that video." Both of the other men in the room jumped up, surprised that he was in the room. Cortez walked over to the computer's screen. Segraves entered the room and joined them by the computer. Jenkins pulled up the video. It was an aerial view of the mosque and the surrounding area that the team had been tasked with raiding. It showed the men in the mosque preparing for the attack. Off to the upper right-hand corner of the screen it showed Cortez his teams meet up with each other. On the roof of the building next to them was a man with a radio in hand, staring at his team, then back to the mosque. _They had been tipped off, they knew we were coming before we even got there!_ Cortez thought. The video contained the rest of the firefight between the Americans and the terrorists. After the battle the monitor displayed the enemies taking the prisoners offscreen, but it showed the informant getting in a nearby car and driving away. Jenkins paused the video. He zoomed in on the informant's face. The man was of middle-eastern ancestry. Benny shoved Brandon out of the way, zoomed in on the man's right eye, pulled up another program, and started to scan the man's eye. "What are you basing the biometric eye scan against?" asked Segraves.

"I am basing the scan off of the CIA database for known terrorists. If you had bothered to stay up later last night, you would have seen me hack into the CIA's mainframe computer wirelessly." retorted Benny. On one side of the screen was the man's eye and on the other side were thousand's of eyes going by each second. The revolution of eyes suddenly stopped on an eye that looked just like the man's eye. The two eyes joined into one eye; next to it appeared a picture of the man, his name, known affiliates, and possible safe houses. Benny watched this information appear and said, in a fake British accent, "Why, hello there."

Jenkins looked at the screen and said, "Nice job, man. Hey, maybe this guy knows where your team is Cortez." Benny suddenly pushed himself away from the computer desk and yelled, "There is no way that they are even alive now; it's been seven days since they were captured! There is no point to even doing this."

"Actually there you are wrong," said Cortez, putting his hand on Benny's shoulder, "Check your implant, their hearts are still beating." He pointed to the man on the computer screen and said, "We need to find them, and I think this man might know where to look."

CIA Head Superintendent Nicholas Patides walked down the hallways of the Langley headquarters of the Central Intelligence Agency, located in Virginia. The tall stocky man of Greek descent was head of everything in the agency, except for certain things that only the director of the CIA could control. The geeks down in the computer lab had told him that someone had hacked flawlessly into the mainframe computer. Now, not only was the integrity of the agency in trouble, but now Director Walters wanted his neck. This was a dangerous situation for him.

He walked past several doors, stopped at one, took out his key-card, swiped it, and stepped inside the door. He passed an attractive woman walking the other way, turned around and stared at her backside. _God, I love this place! _He continued his approach to the door at the end of this corridor. The unlocked it and stepped into his secretary's office. She handed him some files, which he grabbed and quickly headed into his personal office.

Inside his office he sat down in his leather, highback chair. He logged onto his PC and checked his e-mail. He had only one in his inbox. It was from the director; he was requesting for him to come to a meeting in fifteen minutes. His phone rang and he picked it up, "Yes Sheryl?"

"It's a person from Frank's Pizzeria asking about your delivery."

"Thank you, I'll take care of it."

He closed the line on which he was just talking on. He pushed the button on his phone that opened the second line. He put the earpiece to his head, "Hello."

"Yes, did you order a large pizza with pepperoni, anchovies, and bacon?"

Nicholas thought about it for a second, deciphering the message mentally. "Why, yes I did."

"Well I didn't know if you wanted to explain to our friends in Greece that our Middle-Eastern partners have made no headway with the prisoners. Or if you wanted to tell them about the fact that those dumb towel-heads were raided by several of your CIA agents!"

"I was just about to talk to those 'towel-heads' if you hadn't called." replied Superintendent Patides. "If you excuse me, Dean, I have to go to a meeting now."

"Just remember, you are still replaceable." Suddenly the line went dead.

Almost immediately after he had put down the phone, his personal cell phone rang. He opened it, put it to his ear and said, "Yes Baleesh, have you had any progress?"

A heavy Middle-Eastern accent replied, "No, but we are starting to break the Hispanic one. Probably by tomorrow he will have talked. Oh, by the way, did you send us some visitors?"

Nicholas lied to the man and said that he had no knowledge of this happening. In actuality, he had sent those three agents over there. He knew they would be found, and hopefully killed by Hussein's men. Those three knew too much, they had reason to suspect his involvement with the Greek terrorist group, the November Seventeenths. He had needed that fact to be kept silent.

"Anyways," Hussein Baleesh continued, "the woman is going to need more force; she is the tough one out of the group. Oh, in case you were wondering, if your agency sends any more agents, not only will they be killed, but the one agent I have as a prisoner will be killed on live TV. I think his name is Brandon Ball."

A stunned superintendent said his goodbyes to the terrorist and turned off his cell phone. He looked up saw that it was nearly time for him to go to this meeting. He got up, put his overcoat back on and headed out.

Field Operative DeMott couldn't believe that she was in this situation. She was doing a split between two walls right above a bald Iraqi. If the man were to look up, well, he would get an interesting view. A few feet in front of was a door, the door she had to get through. Her and Operative Lee had split up, to find Agent Ball easier. The position her body was in was a very difficult one to hold for several minutes, much less an hour. Her legs were about to give way, and she if that would happen, she would land very hard on "Baldy's" head. She scooted forward, inch by inch, and dropped down behind the man. Quietly she moved her hand to her right thigh, unclipped her silenced pistol, aimed it straight at the tan dome, looked away, and pulled the trigger. The dark room lit up a tiny bit and then went dark in an instant. She felt a little bit of blood splatter against her face. She put her pistol away, and wiped the blood off her Caucasian skin, leaving a crimson streak down her left cheek. She turned around and headed out of the room.

CIA Director Mark Walters sat at a long thin table surrounded by his senior staff. On his right was Head Superintendent Nicholas Patides. On his lefthand side was the Head of Applied Technologies, Antoinette Kolbe. Next to her was the Head of Computer Sciences, Karl Cramer. Right in front of him was the Head of Agent Affairs, Jon Spranger.

Mark Walters had joined the CIA young, but quickly climbed up the ladder to where he was today; he was the youngest man ever to run the CIA. At the age of thirty-two, he was under a lot of stress lately. To add onto the normal stress, someone had hacked into the mainframe computer (a feat that was not supposed to be possible) and three field operatives were in trouble. All of his staff were fairly young, but they were all more experienced in politics and espionage than him.

He turned to face Mr. Cramer. "I know they got something," he said, "but I want to know what they took." The small, balding man looked scared. He stammered and told him that the intruder took only the list of known terrorists, their information, their fingerprint, eyescans, and known affiliates. This was not as bad as he thought it would be, but still it was a wake up call. "I want you and your people to strengthen and enforce all spyware, firewalls, and anti-hacker crap by 300%. Now!" He said to the short man. Cramer nodded and headed out of the room.

Then he turned to face his second in command and the man in charge of all his agents. "Who are these agents and what the hell were they doing over there?"

Spranger replied saying, "The three operatives were Field Agent Brandon Ball, Field Operative Sara DeMott, and Field Operative Jacob Lee."

"Thank you. That still does not tell me what they were there for."

"They were there, because I sent them over there," piped up Superintendent Patides, "I had reasons to suspect that several known terrorists were at that warehouse, and it looks like my assumptions were correct. It also looks like they obviously were not fit for the job."

"Thank you, Nick." He backed up to face the three remaining people at the table and said, "Now, how do we get them back?"

"We could always make our lives easier and disavow the three of them." Walters had never liked how heartless his superintendent could be. If they disavowed the agents, the US government would deny the very existence of them.

"We could send a rescue team." Said Antoinette Kolbe

"How would we even know if they were still there, maybe they were taken to a different place."

"People, I don't care if we have to hire mercenaries to find them, just find a way to find them." said Walters. "Whatever happened to those soldiers that escaped that base over in Baghdad?"

"They disappeared from the grid, once they went past Saudi Arabia."

"Maybe if we find them, they can help us."

Sara DeMott was walking down the corridors, when she saw a dull flash down the hallway ahead. She drew her pistol and aimed at the door that had just opened. Out of the door walked Jacob Lee. He stared over his shoulder at Sara and pointed at an adjoining hallway. She joined up with him and they headed down the hallway.

The two operatives walked into a long room that resembled a prison. They walked past several cells, when they found one with several people in it. When they stepped near the cell, one of the occupants turned around. The woman put her finger to her lip to signal for them to be quiet. She crept toward the gate of the cell as if to talk to them. Instinctively Jacob asked her in a hushed tone if Field Agent Ball was in the cell. The woman looked to her right and nodded. Sara took out her lock picks, and started to pick the lock.

Suddenly there was a loud crack, and a sharp pain in her side. She slumped to her side, ripped her pistol out and unloaded it on the man who had shot her. Beside her, Jacob drew his weapon and aimed it at the door. He looked down at his fellow operative who was on the floor, clutching her side. As he looked down, a bullet entered his right shoulder. He was knocked back, dropping his gun. He fell to the floor. He attempted to stand up, but twin cables shot toward him, connected with his chest, and the slumped heavily to the ground. Sara looked down at her side and saw that blood was oozing out of a small, deep wound. She bought her gaze up in time to see the wooden butt of an AK-47 coming down toward her head.


End file.
